Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [6]
Eldrinn-if that's who it was-couldn't have been more than three or four decades old. A mere boy. He wore an ornately embroidered piwafwi over pale gray trousers and a shirt that shimmered like spider silk. His waist-length, chalk-white hair was gathered in a silver clip at the small of his back. His skin was a lighter shade than usual; he probably wasn't pure drow. Q'arlynd could see a smudge of something black on the boy's high forehead that glistened like axle grease.
Q'arlynd's quiet divination revealed several magical items. The boy's staff glowed, as did his piwafwi, his boots, his hair clip, and the ring that must have been sustaining his invisibility.
By the look of him, the boy was a noble. Probably the son of a wealthy House, one with plenty of coin to purchase expensive magical items. That staff, for example, had a potent aura that spiraled up then down the length of pale wood, alternately filling, then draining from the tiny hourglass-shaped diamond suspended between the forked top of the staff. Q'arlynd fairly itched to get his hands on the thing. A staff with that level of magical potency must be worth at least a hundred thousand gold pieces. Two hundred thousand, even. A fortune, in one hand.
When the boy completed his circuit and turned in Q'arlynd's direction, Q'arlynd let his invisibility drop. When the other male spotted him, Q'arlynd would bow and offer the services of a simple spell that might prove useful in the search. If that didn't work, well… the glass rod was concealed in his hand, ready for use.
Eldrinn, however, paid Q'arlynd no heed. There seemed to be something wrong with him. His eyes looked flat, lifeless. His mouth hung slack; spittle dribbled from one corner. He stumbled slightly, then stopped and shook his head like a surface elf who had spent too long in Reverie. Then he began walking again, plodding along, still staring at the ground.
Every few steps, he mumbled. Q'arlynd could just barely make out the words.
"Bag," the boy slurred. "Mus' geddid bag.'"
Q'arlynd had no idea what it meant, but he was certain of one thing, the fellow posed no threat. If startled, he wasn't in any condition to blast Q'arlynd with a spell.
Q'arlynd dispelled the invisibility that cloaked the other male. Then he lowered his crystal and said in a soft voice, "Eldrinn?"
The boy blinked. He briefly lifted dull eyes to Q'arlynd, then dropped them again and resumed his shuffling. He brushed past as if Q'arlynd wasn't there.
The boy looked like the victim of a feeblemind spell-something only a cleric's prayers or a magical wish could cure. Q'arlynd had neither at his disposal just then.
Q'arlynd stroked his chin and watched the other male tromp circles in the grass. The boy wore an amulet around his neck. Q'arlynd walked beside the boy and lifted the adamantine disc from his chest, curious to see if it bore a House glyph. It didn't. There was, however, an arcane symbol on it that Q'arlynd immediately recognized: "Divination."
Q'arlynd let the amulet fall back against the boy's chest. He understood, now, the lack of an insignia on the dead soldier. The boy-and the soldier who had accompanied him there-were from Sshamath, a city ruled by a conclave of wizards rather than the matrons of noble Houses. The amulet was the College equivalent of a House insignia in a city where House names were seldom used.
Q'arlynd shook his head, not quite believing the coincidence. Sshamath was the city where he hoped to make his new home. Maybe-and this was a disturbing thought-his finding Eldrinn had been more than mere coincidence. Had one of the gods arranged this meeting? Q'arlynd couldn't think of a single deity who might take an interest in him, however. He'd failed to attract the attention